


You Aren't Ruined

by amorluzymelodia



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:19:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorluzymelodia/pseuds/amorluzymelodia





	You Aren't Ruined

You’d known the Winchester’s for years. John and your father hunted together on occasion, throwing you and the boys on Bobby or in a sketchy motel room for weeks at a time. Though you were a few years younger than Sam, he and Dean became your brothers. Dean taught you how to make your own sawn-off and throw knives on target and Sam gave you book after book, defining difficult words and talking about theme and plot points late into the night. Bobby took you all to the park and let you watch old movies when you were supposed to be training. John and your dad became friends and started going on hunts more and more, which was fine with you. Any time spent away from your dad was a gift.

 

The boys didn’t know about your dad. To them he was just John’s hunting partner and they never spoke to him long before he took off on a case. In your life everyone had parent issues. Sam had ranted on and on about how John didn’t understand him and how he wanted a different life. Dean even let slip sometimes when he was drunk about how fed up he was with always being a good little soldier; of course he denied everything the next day and made you swear never to speak of it again. But despite their rants about John you kept your opinions about your dad to yourself. And when he picked you up after a hunt you went quietly, knowing if you made a fuss you would just make it worse for yourself. You relished the days you weren’t stuck in a car with him eight hours a day, sharing a motel room with him at night. Sam and Dean were your solace, and you clung to them desperately.

The first time it happened you thought it was an accident. You were only eight at the time and assumed it was just a drunken misunderstanding. After all your dad wasn’t one to stay sober very long and he clearly didn’t have control over his hands. He hadn’t said anything, just slid his hand down your chest sloppily. You’d shoved him away and he’d left you alone, passing out drunk in his own bed. You’d tried to push it off as a one-time mistake.

But it happened a few more times after that. Just random instances when you caught him looking at you for a long moment and then he’d place his hand on your knee, sliding up slowly. You pushed his hand off and shot him a glare but he just continued. Only when he got dangerously far up your leg did you hit his arm, hard.

“I don’t like that, Dad!” you cried. “Stop it!”

He’d gotten angry with you for that. Mumbling things like “Just trying to show that I love you,” and “Ungrateful little bitch.”

When you two met up with his hunting buddies and they would comment about how big you’d gotten he would throw his head back and laugh, putting his hand on your back and saying how proud he was, and what a heartbreaker you’d be. But when his friends looked away, he’d fix you with an uncomfortable gaze and slid his hand down your backside.

The first time it went too far you were fourteen. It was one of those occasions when your dad didn’t have a case so the two of you drove around aimlessly. He tended to get antsy when he didn’t have a case and used it as an excuse—as if he needed one—to drink more. You were sitting in the motel room reading a book Sam had recommended—you didn’t know when you’d see him again but you wanted to read it before just in case. The door opened and your dad walked in, a man following him. They were both wasted and you hoped if you stayed quiet they would ignore you but no dice. Your dad motioned to you and said something under his breath and the man nodded, looking you up and down slowly.

“You were right, Chris…” he slurred. “She’s quite a beauty.”

Your dad laughed. “Yeah she’s developing into quite the little heartbreaker.” He looked to you. “Y/N don’t be rude! Come meet your old man’s new friend. This here is Mr. Geoff Porter.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said quietly, clutching your book to your chest, not immune to the way Geoff’s eyes were wandering.

“Where are your manners?” your dad demanded. “Come shake hands! You’d think I’d raised you in a barn!”

You knew if you refused he’d get angry so you got up slowly and made your way over to the two men, holding out your hand. Geoff took it and held it for a long moment, his lips curling in a wicked smile.

“Y/N…” he said quietly. “I think you and I are going to get along real well…”

The rest of the night was a blur of pain, tears and the men’s sick laughter. Geoff took you and your dad just laughed, and when you begged them to stop he hit you, telling you that you were making him look bad. When Geoff left you were on the bed sobbing and bleeding and your dad just passed out on the bed next to you.

You wanted to tell someone, anyone, but you were afraid. Your father had made it very clear that no one would believe you; that he was your father and you were to obey him. He said how people showed love varied and this was simply his way of showing that he loved you. When he said that you pointed out the bruise under your eye and he threatened to give you a new one, saying that it was your own damn fault for screaming.

Bobby asked about the bruise when your dad dropped you off but you said you got it training and he’d stopped asking, though he didn’t look convinced. Dean and Sam said nothing; they were used to bruises and to be honest you usually had a few marking your body, but never on your face before. But you kept your mouth shut. He was right; he was your father and you were to do as he said. That’s what being a good daughter meant.

This went on for years. On occasion your dad would bring “friends” home from the bar and you’d shut down, waiting for it to stop. But then the next day you’d get into the car again. You fought back sometimes, hitting and screaming but your dad was a hunter and a damn good one. He had at least a hundred pounds on you and you were little and could only fight him off so much. You’d ended up with broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder more times then you liked to remember and sometimes you couldn’t walk the next day.

Somehow you managed to keep it a secret from Bobby and the boys and you knew John didn’t suspect anything; he thought your dad walked on water. Once when you were eighteen you got your dad to let you go on a hunt alone. Well, in all honesty he was too drunk to really agree to anything but you’d asked and he hadn’t said no so you hotwired a car and found a case a few states over. And it just so happened the Winchester boys were working a case of their own.

Dean said Sam was off at college, Stanford of all things! Of course you knew that seeing as how Sam kept you updated on his life and you kept him up on yours. Dean was working with John but John said the two of you could handle it and he took off, barely saying a thing other than that.

“I see he’s still got that stick up his ass,” you said and Dean shoved your arm.

“Careful,” he warned, only half kidding. “That’s my old man you’re talking about, and I’m nothing if not loyal to my father.”

You bit your tongue against a snarky comment and changed the subject. “So let’s get started on this case…”

You finished the case within a day or so and were having a celebratory drink at a local bar. You’d just finished your second beer and Dean was on his third but holding it really well.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” Dean said and you nodded, the bartender handed you another beer and you thanked him, sipping it slowly.

A hand touched your shoulder and you jumped slightly, turning to see an attractive man about your age with a beer in his hand. He smiled at you sloppily and sat down on the stool next to you.

“Hi there little lady. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you answered and his eyes roved up and down slowly.

“Yes you are…” he murmured and you fidgeted with your drink, moving slightly away from him. “So what do you say we get out of here?” He put his hand on your knee and you smiled.

“I’m actually waiting for my friend to get back so if you don’t mind…” You tried to move away but he gripped your elbow.

“C’mon babe let’s have some fun…” He slid his hand further up your thigh and you began to panic.

“Please leave me alone,” you said, trying to sound forceful but you were reminded of your father and you wanted nothing more than to run away screaming.

He leaned in close and tightened his hold on your elbow. Years of hunting and training were wasted as you sat there, shocked into silence and immobility. Just when you were about ready to scream he was pulled off of you. Dean was gripping the back of his shirt and shoved him away forcefully. The man landed on the ground, his beer bottle shattering.

“Touch her again and I’ll knock you out so fast you’ll be spitting teeth for a month,” he threatened but the man just laughed, too drunk to realize just how serious Dean was.

“You’re bluffin’ man,” he slurred, fixing his gaze on you. “I bet you bend her over just like all the other whores in this bar. She’s asking for it man, I’m just giving her what she needs.”

He tried to get up but Dean pulled out his gun so fast it took a moment for the guy to register what was happening. When he did his grin fell instantly and he held up his hands.

“Dean!” you cried, racing forward and putting your hand on his arm. He didn’t lower the gun, but used his other arm to touch your waist.

“Let’s go Y/N,” he said quietly, daring anyone to challenge him. You raced out of the bar, Dean following behind and jumped in the impala, screeching out of the lot and racing back to the motel. Dean locked the door behind him and you took a deep breath, feeling slightly better but not completely.

“What the hell Y/N?” he demanded and you turned to him.

“What?”

“What the hell was that? You could’ve taken that guy with both hands tied behind your back and I have to come in and save you? What the hell happened?”

You shrugged. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about, especially to Dean fucking Winchester. He was the epitome of a daddy’s boy. You could only assume he’d shout at you for saying one bad word about your father.

“He just caught me off guard is all, I’m tipsy and I didn’t know how to react—“

“Bullshit.” Dean cut you off. “I’ve seen you fight monsters that jumped out of literally nowhere, and you can hold your liquor better than me and that’s saying something! What’s really going on?”

“Nothing Dean!” You were yelling now but you didn’t care. “Jesus I get wigged out with one asshole in a bar and suddenly I’m incapable? It was a fluke Dean, so just let it go!”

Dean stared at you for a long moment but then nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“Okay, forget I said anything,” he said simply and left it at that.

After that, you and Dean didn’t talk for a while. Sam kept you updated on his life with his girlfriend Jessica but dropped off the grid at some point too. You ended up hunting by yourself for a while, managing to convince your dad you were capable enough to do so. It felt good to get away from him but there was always the nightmares. Every man in a bar who hit on you reminded you of him, and you couldn’t get close to anyone. Whenever you even kissed someone you’d get twitchy and pull back, breathing hard and on the verge of tears. It took a while but eventually you were able to sleep at least a few hours a night and talk to men without seeing your father everywhere.

When your father got himself killed by a skinwalker you didn’t even drop a tear. In your eyes he wasn’t your father, but the man who’d abused you for most of your life. You met up with Dean and Sam a while later and after swapping stories you learned John had passed too, something about a demon deal. They’d introduced you to their friend Castiel, who turned out to be a real life angel of the Lord. You hunted with them on and off for a few years, finally moving in with them at their bunker in Kansas.

Living with the boys made you feel safer than you had in a while. Living alone meant you were left alone with your memories and the nightmares were worse. But with Sam and Dean down the hall you felt safer and were able to sleep almost comfortably. Sure, you still had nightmares and refused to go bars with the boys, but for the most part you were happy here.

One night at the end of a hunt the boys headed off to the local bar but you opted to stay back at the motel. While being alone made you feel uncomfortable, the last thing you wanted was to be surrounded by intoxicated men just like your father. So while the boys went out you curled in a ball underneath the scratchy blankets of the motel and fell into a restless sleep.

Strong arms wrapped around you, preventing you from breathing correctly. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t break free. Rough hands slid down your body and you struggled against his hold. You were screaming but your voice was muffled and hoarse.

“Y/N!” a voice screamed, and you heard it like you were underwater. You flinched away from it. New hands gripped your shoulders and shook you. “Y/N wake up!” The voice got clearer and louder.

“Please….no….” you moaned and the voice yelled again. “Please don’t, I’m sorry!”

"Y/N, it’s me, it’s Dean! Please wake up!” You recognized Dean’s voice through the fog, and shot up in bed, breathing heavily with cold sweat making your clothes cling to you.

“Don’t touch me!” you screamed at no one in particular. “Stop touching me!”

It took you a few moments to remember where you were. You were in a hotel room but not the one from your nightmare. And your attackers—your father and his faceless friends—were nowhere to be seen. Instead there was a concerned Dean and Sam standing over you. Sam had his gun out and cocked, ready to shoot whatever was attacking you. Only he couldn’t shoot the demons inside of you, no matter how much you wished he could.

Dean was the one holding you. His hands were on your shoulders, making you feel pinned and trapped. You shoved him away and he backed up instantly, his hands raised above his head. Sam was checking the bathroom and closets for your unseen attacker.

“No one here,” Sam called and Dean sat down next to you slowly, like he was trying not to frighten you. “Y/N, what happened?”

You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair, feeling frazzled. “Nothing, just a nightmare. No one was here it…it was just a nightmare.” You weren’t sure if you were assuring them or yourself.

“Y/N…” Dean spoke slowly and calmly. “It looked like you were having a seizure. You were thrashing around, screaming, crying. We couldn’t get you to wake up, you just kept begging someone to stop. What was your nightmare about?”

Sam was now sitting on the bed too, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes. You curled in a ball and wrapped your arms around your knees. This was the last thing you wanted to talk about, but you knew the Winchesters wouldn’t leave it alone. When it happened at the bunker you could hide it from them, but here they had caught you in the midst of one of your worst nightmares in a while.

You shrugged. “To be honest I don’t even remember. It was all blurry and confusing and it’s already slipping away. Hunters get nightmares all the time, it’s nothing to worry about.” You tried to smile but they didn’t seem convinced. Sam just shrugged. 

“Well Dean and I were thinking we should head back to the bunker anyway, see if anything new has come up.”

You nodded and sprung out of bed, eager to put this motel and the nightmare behind you. As Sam packed up and you grabbed your duffle and splashed some water on your face Dean gave you a funny look but said nothing.

The drive back to the bunker was silent and uncomfortable. Dean kept shooting you knowing glances through the rearview mirror and Sam tried to make small-talk that got him nowhere. You were grateful when Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage and the three of you went off on your own.

You went to your room to unpack and realized your laundry was getting pretty rank. So you gathered up everything and carried it down the hall, throwing it all into the wash and making your way back to your room.

“I’m telling you man, that wasn’t just an ordinary nightmare!” You heard Dean’s voice coming from the main room in the bunker and stopped just around the corner to listen. “I’ve seen hunting nightmares and that was something different!”

You heard Sam sigh. “Dean, she’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. If she says it was just a nightmare, it was just a nightmare. You can’t tell me you haven’t woken up in a cold sweat after a hard hunt.”

“Of course, but that was an easy salt-and-burn. It shouldn’t have affected her like that…and there was something else. She woke up screaming ‘don’t touch me, stop touching me’ and you can’t tell me that doesn’t sound…off?”

Sam paused for a long moment and you felt your stomach clench. They were putting things together and you didn’t know if you could handle that right now.

“Also…” Dean started again. “A few years back she and I were working a case in Dallas…some asshole got handsy at a bar and she completely shut down. I mean I’ve seen her take down monsters with her insides practically hanging out, but this guy had his hand on her thigh and she just froze.”

Sam was silent again and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. You heard one of them pacing and the other tapping their foot against the table. Finally, Sam spoke, his voice low.

“You don’t think she was ever…assaulted? Do you?” he whispered. “That would explain the nightmares, and why she gets twitchy when some guy touches her.”

Before they could figure anything else out you took a deep breath and turned the corner, pasting a smile on your face.

“Hey guys!” you said, trying to sound cheery. “Do we have any beer?” You made your way to the kitchen but Sam cut you off, stepping in front of you.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he said and you tried to laugh it off.

“Uh oh, sounds serious. You’re not breaking up with me are you? Oh no…are you pregnant?” You let out a little laugh but they were glaring at you.

“What was your nightmare about, Y/N?” Dean demanded and you fidgeted.

“I told you I don’t remember. All the nightmares tend to get blended together after a while and—“

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N we know it was something more than just a hunting nightmare.” Dean was angry now and that made you nervous. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Drop. It. Dean,” you hissed threateningly but he didn’t back down.

“No, Y/N. I care about you too much to watch this happen to you and I’m too angry to leave it at this. Tell me. Now.”

You took a deep breath and swallowed your fear, and your pride.

“My dad,” you said simply and they frowned.

“He’s been gone for a while now, Y/N,” Sam said quietly. “His death was awful and I understand why it would bother you but—“

You shook your head and cut him off. “No, Sam. His death isn’t what I’m dreaming about. It’s what he did when he was alive that’s giving me nightmares.”

Both of them still looked confused but you really didn’t want to elaborate.

“Hunting?” Sam offered. “The hunts he took you on? Are those what you’re dreaming about?”

You shook your head but stayed silent and after a moment Dean squinted at you and clenched his fists.

“Did he touch you?” he hissed and your eyes snapped up for a split second before glaring down at the carpet. That seemed to be answer enough. “Jesus Christ,” Dean got up and ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

Sam was staring at you in shock and anger. “How long?” he asked quietly and you felt tears coming but bit them back.

“It started when I was about eight,” you murmured and Sam fell into a chair, his head in his hands.

“Why in God’s name didn’t you ever say anything?” he demanded.

“What was I supposed to say?” you snapped. “’Hey guys you know the guy your dad hunts with and thinks the world of? Yeah he and his pervy friends have been raping me for years now, just an fyi!’ I couldn’t tell you that! I couldn’t let you guys carry my burden. Besides…” you took a breath. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

Sam looked at you sympathetically. “Of course we would have believed you, Y/N!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Dean shouted. “His friends? The bastard let his friends touch you too?”

You nodded. “Sometimes he’d bring home men from the bars and leave me alone with them…sometimes he’d join in. He told me I had to ‘entertain’ them, that that was what a good daughter was supposed to do; entertain her father’s friends. Usually I would just shut down until it was over. But it was never over. There was always another hunt, another motel, another bar with more perverts. I lived for the days when I could see you guys again but after a while even you two freaked me out. I couldn’t look at a man without seeing my father or his friends. I can’t even look at myself without seeing him tainting me! And I hate it, I hate what he did to me! I hate that he ruined me!” You were crying now, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly. Sam rushed to you and pulled you into his arms and while you pulled back at first, panicking, you reminded yourself that Sam was safe, Sam wouldn’t hurt you and you eventually melted into him, crying your heart out.

You heard flapping of wings and instantly pulled back from Sam, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. Castiel stood in front of you looking confused. You hadn’t noticed before but Dean was gone. Castiel frowned at you and Sam.

“Y/N? Sam?” he asked in his gravelly voice. “What is the matter? Y/N, why are you crying?”

Sam looked to you for a moment and you shrugged, telling him it was okay to tell Cas. Sam gave Castiel the spiel and when he was finished Castiel was fuming, physically radiating anger.

“This man, he was your father?” You nodded. “And he assaulted you? Multiple times?” You nodded again and Castiel nodded once. “Where is he?”

“Why?” you asked, confused.

“So I can find him and torture him in every single way I know how,” Castiel said and for the first time since meeting him you saw him like he must have been when the boys first met him, a warrior. “I will rip him apart for causing you pain, Y/N.”

“He’s dead, Cas,” Sam said quietly, still with his arm wrapped around you, though you were both sitting at the table now. “Got killed on a hunt a few years back.”

Castiel just shook his head. “Then I will raise him to torture him again. I will make him pay for what he did to you.”

You shook your head. “No, Castiel. I don’t want that. I don’t want him anywhere near me ever again. I want him gone from me, gone from this Earth and that’s where he is right now. If there’s any justice in this world he’ll be in Hell and getting what he deserves but I don’t want you doing anything. I’m not worth that.”

Castiel’s gaze softened a bit and he knelt down in front of you, his hand tipping your chin slightly.

“Y/N look at me,” he said gently and you met his gaze. “You. Are. Worth. It. Never think poorly of yourself, you are far too precious for that.”

Tears welled in your eyes again and you nodded, thanking him.

Castiel cleared his throat and stood awkwardly, seeming embarrassed he showed so much emotion.

“If I cannot seek to avenge you…is there anything I can do for you?”

You thought for a moment but shook your head.

“No, thank you, Castiel. Right now I would just like to curl up and listen to some music, that’s one of the ways I would calm down after…well it makes me feel better.”

The boys nodded seriously. Castiel patted your shoulder gently and disappeared in a flutter of wings. Sam looked at you awkwardly.

“Would you want me to stay with you? I wouldn’t sleep in your bed but if you’d like me close…”

You smiled and hugged him, thankful that he wanted to help but was being respectful of your space, given the reason you were so upset.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll be okay for tonight. It makes me feel better knowing you two are just down the hall.”

Sam nodded and kissed the top of your head. “Just holler if you need anything. I’m gonna hit the hay. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ditto,” you said, and while he headed off to his room you stayed sitting at the table, taking a deep breath.

You couldn’t believe they knew. After so many years of hiding your dirty secret everyone closest to you knew. And they hadn’t gotten angry, not at you at least. Even Castiel had wanted to seek to avenge you, and you didn’t even know him that well. You were touched. Dean hadn’t even mentioned John…speaking of Dean where had he gone? He’d disappeared when Castiel had shown up. Had you made him angry? Maybe he was upset with you and was distancing himself. Maybe he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore…

Well if you were going to sleep you might as well try. You got up slowly and made your way to your room, only to be stopped by the sounds of heavy breathing and something shattering. It sounded like it was coming from the library so you made your way towards it, pulling out your gun as you went. You knew the bunker was warded from almost everything, but was there a chance something or someone had gotten in? You stayed close to the wall and kept your gun raised.

As you approached you could still hear the heavy breathing and what sounded like crying. You peeked around the corner and saw Dean with his hands on the table in front of him, his head hanging by his chest. There was a broken lamp on the floor next to him. You considered walking in and talking to him but something occurred to you; he left so you wouldn’t see him like this. He didn’t want you or Sam to see him break down. He’d given you space when you’d asked for it, so the least you could do now was do the same for him.

But something kept you rooted in place. You didn’t make a move forward or let yourself be shown, but you lowered your gun and watched him silently.

Dean was still breathing heavily and you could tell he was crying. He pounded his fist on the table and grunted, then in one swift movement knocked everything—books, a laptop, a few mugs and a bottle of Jack Daniels—off of the table, sending it all shattering to the floor. He threw a glass he hadn’t knocked over against the wall, letting out a grunt-like scream. Though you were slightly afraid of him at the moment you didn’t move, just watched him, your heart breaking. You watched as he moved to the wall and punched it, hard. You flinched when you heard his bones shatter as his fist hit the concrete of the bunker wall.

“Fuck!” he hissed, shaking his hand out and cradling it to his chest. He slid down against the wall and leaned his head on his knees.

This was a side of Dean you’d never seen before. You’d seen him get angry and upset but never before had he broken down like he was now. It made you feel guilty that you were the cause of it. This was one of the reasons you hadn’t wanted to tell him in the first place. You didn’t want to be a burden. He and Sam already had so much on their plates; they didn’t deserve your shit issues too.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice Dean lift his head from his knees. He looked around the room, his gaze finding you leaning around the doorframe, like you were afraid of being caught. He got up immediately, wiping at his face and wincing when he forgot about his injured hand.

“Y/N!” he stammered. “Um, I wasn’t…I didn’t know you were there.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been watching,” you said shyly, moving into the room. “Are you okay?” You walked over to him and he shrugged.

“I’ve had worse,” he said, holding up his hand.

“Hang on, I’ll get the first aid kit,” you said, ignoring his complaints as you got it from the kitchen and came back in. “Here, let me.” You reached for his hand, holding it gently while you felt around. “Do you want me to reset it?” you asked and he shrugged

“Might as well. I usually have Sam do it. I can’t ever bring myself to do it—FUCK!” he screamed as you reset his fingers and wrapped it with a bandage.

“Sorry,” you said quietly. “I figured it would be worse if I did it when you were expecting it.”

“Nope, no it’s good,” he said, biting his lip and blinking back tears. “Thanks. Sorry you had to see that. I just haven’t been that angry in a long, long time. Just the thought of someone touching you…of your own father—the man that’s supposed to care for you, look out for you—using you like that! God it makes me sick. And I’m so angry at myself for not stopping it!”

That made you look up. “Why? You couldn’t have done anything.”

He shook his head. “No, I could have! I saw you one, twice a month and I never said anything! There were times when you’d come with bruises or broken bones with some bogus story about training or a hunt but I always wondered…and I was so afraid of being wrong that I never said anything! When you started getting nervous around Sam and I that’s when I knew something was up. I even said something to my dad but he just yelled at me for saying something against Chris. I should have tried harder…I should have protected you, Y/N and I’m so, so sorry I didn’t! I’m so, sorry…” He dropped his head in his hands and you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t blame yourself, Dean, it’ll just make you go crazy,” you said, rubbing his back. “Trust me on that one, it doesn’t do any good.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault either right?” he sniffed. “Those things he did, that he made you do. They weren’t your fault, and you couldn’t have done anything to warrant that. And despite what you may think, he did not ruin you. You are perfect and loved and we will not let anything like that happen to you ever again. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that but I will protect you now.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him. “I love you, Dean.” You whispered and he kissed your temple.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always will.”


End file.
